★★★

“We want to dig deeper into the shadows, but the writing is reluctant to explore far enough to flesh out the ideas that are bubbling underneath”

As I came out of the premiere of Aaron Thakar’s debut play, “Artificially Yours” I played a game with my smart phone. I don’t use Siri, which probably puts me in the minority of the population, but I decided to ask it some questions. Whilst it was able to give me factual details (my next appointment or my partner’s phone number for example), when it was asked something more abstract that required an emotional reaction, it merely answered with the words ‘that’s an interesting question’.

Thakar takes this notion a step further with his one-act play and, in turn, asks some interesting questions. It centres around an advanced AI device, called Agapé, that is not just a personal assistant but also one that can act as a relationship therapist to its bickering owners. Under Hannah McLeod’s slick direction, the narrative follows the effects this has on three different – though connected – couples as they navigate the usual hurdles that interrupt the smooth run of their affairs. Billed as a ‘dark comedy’ it yields some rich comic moments but never really explores the darkness. Agapé is given a bit of an underwritten supporting role here, and the piece often feels like just another sitcom. A perceptive one, nevertheless, which grapples with issues beyond AI’s limited capabilities of which the young writer has a mature grasp.

Agapé’s most accomplished skill is that of distinguishing a lie from a truth, and as such is more judgemental than its human counterpart therapist. But still the three couples decide to choose what they only want to hear. First up we have Pippa and Martin (Leslie Ash and Paul Giddings). Recently divorced, Martin is trying to get Pippa to agree to him introducing their daughter to his new girlfriend. Meanwhile Lilah and Ash (Destiny Mayers and writer Thakar himself) sport matching pyjamas but a clashing reliance on their artificial counsellor. Further clashes ensue when they go on a double dinner date with Ellie and Noah (Ella Jarvis and Jake Mavis). The connections between the six individuals are gradually revealed through disagreements, quarrels and occasional reconciliations: but no real resolve.

The cast spar well together, and while Thakar’s writing is thoughtful, we do often forget that Agapé is in the room as the characters’ idiosyncrasies take centre stage. Destiny Mayers is convincing as the frustrated Lilah who silently laments her partner’s reliance on artificial communication. As jobbing actor Ash, Thakar has the strongest arc which culminates in the play’s only distinct self-reformation. Leslie Ash’s Pippa makes the most of her underwritten mother-of-two. Ash excels, however, in depicting her internal tug-of-war between affection and disdain for her ex – equally convincingly illustrated by Paul Giddings’ Martin, wrapped up in his over-padded mid-life crisis. Ella Jarvis’ unhinged, overwrought Ellie and Jake Mavis’ maddening, fitness-fanatic Noah dish out the lion’s share of the laughs. Bordering on farce, the cast collectively manage to avoid artificiality.

Yet the serious questions, and the darkness that is teasingly dangled in front of us never really materialises. We want to dig deeper into the shadows, but the writing is reluctant to explore far enough to flesh out the ideas that are bubbling underneath. Yet we must remember (and just in case we don’t, we were reminded at curtain call) that this is Thakar’s debut as a writer and an actor. Depending on which way you look at this it can either be an excuse or a celebration. I lean towards the latter. In its own way it is quite an achievement. “Artificially Yours” might not yet be his hallmark, but Thakar has made his mark and, in time, is someone to watch out for.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM at Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★★★

“a production of charm and genuine ebullience”

The grade II* listed Wilton’s Music Hall has endured as one of London’s hidden theatrical gems since the Victorian era. Its current run of A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Flabbergast Theatre) is a spectacle worthy of that history. Directed by the company’s founder, Henry Maynard, the production builds upon Flabbergast’s roots in physical theatre (Lecoq and Grotowski). The result is an adaptation of unrelenting vivacity and charm.

From first stepping in to the grand hall you are met with members of the cast already in full character. Some sit next to you, others jump out at you, others sit languorously on stage, lute playing or stumbling their way through poetry recitals. Each of the players gradually form around a grand hay wain, which forms the centrepiece of the stage.

Immediately apparent is the hay wain’s flexibility as a piece of set (design also by Henry Maynard), yet its anachronism with the decadence of the grand hall also implies a more tantalising reality to the position of the characters first as actors themselves. It gives the impression of an itinerant, touring company, true to the kind one would find in Shakespearean times. The result is a sense of spectacle which begins from the moment you enter the hall.

This is the second time the company has turned its hand to classical adaptation, following their UK and European run of Macbeth (2022-23). The production’s roots in physical theatre complement the play’s imaginative scope. The cast and director consistently find creative ways to draw out Shakespeare’s humour wordlessly. From Bottom’s metamorphosis into the ass, to the various reshufflings of the love quadrangle between Lysander, Hermia, Helena, and Demetrius; the playfulness of the production’s delight in physicality, faultlessly delivers the series of fantastical fulcrums upon which Shakespeare’s plot rests.

Rachel Shipp’s lighting design is integral to the efficacy of the production’s shifts in atmosphere, narrative and tone between each of the three main character subsets. Her direction of front and side lighting harnesses the unique potentiality of the original Victorian architecture. The silhouettes of Quince’s masked players are beautifully cast onto the flaking paintwork of the wall beneath the proscenium arch. In Bottom’s metamorphosis scene, his newly satyrised shadow is projected against the shelf of the balcony at each side, grotesquely elongating his torso.

Quince’s players, played entirely in masks, utterly steal the show. The play is worth attending for them alone. Simon Gleave is unfalteringly funny both as Egeus and Bottom. Reanne Black’s doubling as the formidable Titania and the stuttering Snug is brilliantly executed. Lennie Longworth shines in her professional debut as Puck, whose various costume and prop changes brilliantly enhance her role as the plotline’s tinkering éminence grise. While Oberon (Krystian Godlewski) capers around in a golden leotard-cum-flower pouch leaving progressively little to the imagination.

It will have its detractors. Moments of dialogue are rushed, others overlong. Perhaps at times the incidence of air humping and thespian affectation reach excess. But at its heart the production captures the essential capacities of theatre at its best. It is deeply imaginative and funny, and recurrently finds innovative means of revitalising a storied classic.

Returning again to the central image of the hay wain which, as Maynard puts it, ‘anchors the production conceptually’. One is put in more of a mind of the spectacular chaos of Bosch’s hay wain triptych than Constable’s (rather less turbulent) bucolic landscape. The play exhibits notes of vaudeville, pantomime, absurdism, but it ends in the tradition of the masque. As Puck emerges, centre stage, in front of the hay wain, flanked by candlelit faces, and re-establishes the direct relationship with the audience with which the production began. ‘If we shadows have offended’, she perorates, as her silhouette continues to play against the wall. We see them last as we see them first, as actors engaged in the process of play. The effect is a production of charm and genuine ebullience, true to the most innate impulses of theatre’s potential to entertain.

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS at Riverside Studios

★★★

“We want to dig deeper into the shadows, but the writing is reluctant to explore far enough to flesh out the ideas that are bubbling underneath”

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS at Riverside Studios

Reviewed on 11th April 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Andrew Fosker

Previously reviewed at this venue:

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS

ARTIFICIALLY YOURS

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM at Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★★★

“a production of charm and genuine ebullience”

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM at Wilton’s Music Hall

Reviewed on 10th April 2024

by Flynn Hallman

Photography by Michael Lynch

Previously reviewed at this venue:

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

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